


Kittentervention

by FeyduBois



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allergies, Cats, Curtain Fic, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pregnancy, Romantic Comedy, Secret Santa, So Married, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-02-26 13:03:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13236300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeyduBois/pseuds/FeyduBois
Summary: Or, How Cats Conquered the Known UniversePost-Voltron Keith, Shiro, and Hunk readapt to life on Earth by adopting cats. Many, many, many cats... so many cats. Their partners and friends eventually get upset and stage an intervention.Secret Santa for Mullet





	1. Pussy Problems

**Author's Note:**

> Secret Santa for Mullet
> 
> If I do not finish this before the end of the month (2nd part out by the 15th, 3rd by the 25th) please get on my case. I might need my own intervention (IE, someone change my Netflix password until all my current WIPs are done).

Kittentervention: Or, How Cats Conquered the Known Universe

1: Pussy Problems

For Mullet (AKA apervertthatlikescookies)

 

It had started with O’Riley the therapy cat. He was an aged ginger tom of relaxed attitude and a unique ability to calm down anyone no matter how deep in a PTSD hallucination-flashback they were. Of course after Voltron all the paladins needed some therapy, and to make things easier they all saw doctor Bonnie McCallum. She was gentle and soft-spoken, but had worked for years with veterans and knew how to de-escalate quickly. Her cat, O’Riley became a friend of all of the paladins, and gently doctor McCallum had suggested to all of them, at different moments, that perhaps a cat in their home would help with their problems. It has been proven, by science, that the very act of petting a cat reduces blood pressure and anxiety almost instantly. Cat owners tend to be healthier for this reason, with lower risk of heart-attack, hypertension, and other related disorders, as she explained. They all loved O’Riley at least, except the Holts who had to take antihistamines before their visits. Somehow this lazy orange striped ball of fur grew on them, and they all decided that they needed one at home, and things just kind of snowballed from there...

***

Keith had ten cats (most days; truthfully it varied from eight to fourteen). It could be worse, Lance decided, except that all of them were “special needs” cats from the various local shelters. Of course geriatric cats, or those with chronic medical issues, were late to get adopted, but it wasn’t these that Keith necessarily went for (that was Hunk’s thing); the cats Keith adopted were the very last to get adopted, even after the ones that needed daily medication, or who sometimes missed the litter-box. The ones Keith took on were the feral cats, the ones deemed “unadoptable”, the wild things; of course, after piloting Red Lion, and later on Black Lion, Lance figured that Keith had taming difficult kitties down to an art. Keith gave them their space, and the double doored rooms leading in and out on both the back and front of the house, and its somewhat remote location, helped with the transition from wild thing to house pet. Keith’s cats lived with labels; an orange collar meant indoors only, green meant sometimes allowed outside, and blue, or no collar, meant they had free reign. This was provided they would keep the collars on, Lance knew that there were a few who were allowed free reign but had long ago refused to be collared, and sometimes they would get a new one who would neither keep a collar nor was allowed outdoors. They had a system, most of the no-collar cats had earned their way out of the system, but Keith was always adopting new cats who would not be bound into the system, and while some of them went back to the shelter after the taming period, others stayed, preferring the half-wild existence they enjoyed at the cabin. 

It would be fine, but Lance was starting to get annoyed with not even being able to leave his house without a dash of fur flying past his feet, and then having to poke his head back into the house from the coat-room and call out: “Keith, your new cat is trying to escape!”, before he could even step outside, or else the cat might escape and never be seen again. It slowed him down and made a clear, definite barrier between the inside and the outside that the very reason they lived in a cabin was to eliminate. They couldn’t even have the windows open, even with screens installed, since they’d had new cats claw their way out, and this made the indoor air muggy and gross… nevermind the litter-box smell: “I love you Keith, but I have limits.”

Also, Lance wanted a dog. He had Misty, a grey chihuahua cross they’d adopted from the shelter Keith frequented, but Misty most of the time thought she was a cat, or some kind of purse dog. She’d rather be carried than walk, and although she liked other dogs if they gave her space, with big dogs she would usually bare her teeth out of fear before they could make friends. Making friends was hard for Misty, and although Lance loved her with all his heart, there was no doubt of that, there were times when he wanted a big dog he could play fetch with, or swim in the lake, or hike up the mountain… Misty tried, she’s a trooper, but her legs are small, her fur is short, and she gets cold and tired quickly.

Misty might be as much a real dog as her body allowed, but she had limits, and Lance wanted something bigger, perhaps something that would bring the real dog out in Misty. This was Lance’s conundrum.

***

“ _Aa… aaAAATChU EAATCHOU!_ ” Pidge sneezed, then snorted. Hunk was at the ready with a tissue box and Pidge took several, and immediately handed a couple behind her to where Matt was standing, awkwardly, his nose twitching, ready to…

“ _AAHK-TCHOOU!_ ”

“Bless you, both, of you.” Hunk said nervously as the Holt siblings took off their shoes and coats and came into his living room. “And come on in.”

“S’cuse me,” Matt sniffed, “Forgot the meds today, which means I also forgot to dose the gremlin.”

Pidge stuck her tongue out at her brother, “Let’s just go to the lab, no cat hair there.”

“Hahah, yeah…” Hunk said nervously as he led them to the garage where they would be working on integrating Altean and Earth technology, taking what they could from Altean tech to improve on Terran. When he opened the door a large tortoiseshell sat on the workbench, snoring.

“Huuunk,” Matt groaned, “I thought we agreed that the lab was a no-pussy zone.”

“Then clearly you’re not allowed here,” Pidge punched her brother in the shoulder.

“Ow! Katie, c’mon! What was that for?”

“For being a pussy.”

Matt rolled his eyes, getting back to the point, “I know you love your cats, Hunk, but you know that Pidge and I are allergic and we want to come over and work here, your workshop is the best, but we can’t if you always let them sleep all over the place. Besides, it’s not good for the equipment.”

“It’s just Angel,” Hunk defended, “The other cats beat her up so I let her stay in here.”

Matt grumbled, as did Pidge, but they got to work fairly quickly; “How much hair can one cat produce?”

Apparently a lot.

“ _Aaahtchou! Aah-aahatchou! ATCHOU!_ ”

“ _Eeatchou!” AAHTCHOU!_ ” Matt’s deeper, but very similar, sneezes followed Pidge’s. They passed the box of tissues between themselves, repeatedly blowing and snuffling until their voices were faded, consonants rounded, and their eyes were red and watering.

“Hunk, I dond’t thingk this is workingd,” Pidge sniffed.

“What do you mean?” Hunk asked, “We’ve almost got the teluduv worked out, with a strong enough energy source we can maybe start thinking about wormhole trials. I mean, it’ll be dangerous, we’ll have to figure out some kind of a coordinate system, these aren’t exactly Stargates, but we’ll get it...”

“Ndo,” Pidge interrupted, “Your cat. Angel. You ndeed to get her outd of here.”

“What?”

Matt sniffled, “It’s too buch hair.”

“That cat is ebil,” Pidge glared.

“Angel?” Hunk asked, “Are you kidding? She is her namesake… an absolute angel. Look at this sweet thing?”

Angel wasn’t especially long-haired, but she was a big cat and had a lot of it. At her name’s mention she opened two clear green eyes and yawned, baring a mouthful of fangs and blinked curiously at the humans who had interrupted her nap. Like most tortoiseshells her body was shaped different than other cats, she was not slim like a siamese, instead her body was thick with short legs, her head squat like a horizontal rugby ball. She was well-proportioned and a nice looking cat, but certainly not sleek. Immediately she stretched and began to purr, rubbing herself against Hunk, and then against Matt. White, orange, grey, and black fur shed off her body in tufts.

“ _Eeeh… EEYAATCHU!_ ” Matt sneezed, then snuffled, “Stupid fur.”

“It’s actually the dander,” Pidge reminded him, punctuating her explanation with a solid nose blow, “From their saliva.”

“And that’s bedder?” Angel was so happy at the scritches Hunk was giving her that she began to drool out of joy. Drool which she then rubbed onto Matt’s bare arm as she gently headbutted him, overcome with affection.

“Thangks Angel,” Matt muttered darkly through his congestion. Hunk had an amazing workshop, but this had to change.

***

“Watson! No thank you, I do not want it! Nope! No no no no…” Lance screeched. Watson, Keith’s first cat, chased the bat around their coat room. It wasn’t a small bat this time either. 

Watson was a valiant hunter of all small animals including mice, rats, shrews, voles, moles, chipmunks, squirrels, birds of all kinds, snakes, frogs, salamanders, small rabbits, and now, bats. If he could carry it he would hunt it, and Lance was sure he sometimes killed bigger things but simply left them because he couldn’t pick them up, and Watson was a big cat.

The bat continued to flap around the room near the ceiling, confused, wounded, and all black wings and high, almost above human-hearing, screeching. Lance crouched and covered his head screaming with equal panic, “Keith! KEITH! Get in here now!”

Lance did not want to be bit by the bat, couldn’t you get rabies that way? What if it was a vampire bat? Wasn’t that how you contracted vampirism?

Watson had no worries about this, the massive tabby jumped from shelf to shelf around the coat room/storage space, knocking over tools and clothing, shattering a lantern and scattering a tin can of nails and screws across the floor.

“Lance?” Keith opened the door to the house, “What the hell is going on…?”

The bat saw its opening and fled through the door into the house, flapping around the ceiling. Watson followed in a flash, climbing up the curtains to get near, kicking aside the curtain rod as it clattered to the floor and he leapt to a shelf, and then to the macrame hanging basket full of spider plants near the window. 

“Watson!” Lance called out just as the cat scaled the curtains and brought the whole curtain rod tumbling down. Misty and two of the other cats came to investigate what was happening. Misty, in standard chihuahua fashion, began to bark at the bat.

“I’ll open a window,” Lance said to Keith, “You get a broom.”

He wanted to say this was the first time a bat had been brought into their house, but it wasn’t.

Lance stood on the couch below the window, slid it open, and popped out the screen. Watson decided then that Lance’s back was a good launching platform to get closer to the bat and jumped on top of him, nearly pushing Lance through the window into the snow outside, and then launched himself towards the bat who flapped around, and then around Lance’s head.

“KEITH!” Lance cried.

Keith ran in wielding their broom like his Marmorite dagger. “Lance!” he cried.

“What?”

“It’s Pringles!” Keith gestured with the broom to the top of the couch next to Lance.

Lance looked down. The shy little black and white cat with a bright orange collar was edging her way towards the window. “No!” Lance said. From there on time seemed to slow.

Lance edged towards Pringles, but then Watson dropped from above him and lanced on his back, sending him flying off the couch and crashing onto the coffee table, the flimsy IKEA furniture piece breaking under him, meanwhile Keith went for the bat with his broom, also making a run for Pringles who took the distraction as an opportunity to dive out into the snow.

“Shit, Pringles! Pringles! Get back here!” The bat flew out over his head as he called. “Pringles, here kitty kitty kitty!”

Lance lifted himself up from the debris and scowled.

“Lance!” Keith turned to him, his face a mask of despair, “We have to go find her.”

Lance was ready to give Keith a piece of his mind, to tell him how ridiculous this was, to tell him how much he appreciated being used as a piece of furniture by Watson and having a bat flapping around his living room and being thrown onto a coffee table.

But then Lance saw his face, he saw that Keith’s eyes were almost brimming with tears. They’d taken so long to get Keith to this point, to where he’d open up this much to Lance, and to throw all that work out because Lance was angry in that second… Lance sighed. He liked the little cat too.

“Let’s go find her…”

***

After hours of stomping outside in the snow with a bag of _Temptations_ calling “Pringles!” the little cat was safely back inside, asleep in one of the hidey-holes of their cat tower, and Lance was trying to defrost himself with a cup of tea. This was getting ridiculous. He decided to call Allura, his favourite person to vent at.

***

“It’s getting to be too much!” Lance said. He and Allura were having coffee at the local cafe (well, a mocha for Lance and herbal tea for Allura).

“I know,” Allura said, “At my place too.”

“There’s just too many of them, I can’t keep them straight.”

“He’s losing his mind cleaning the house, always asking if I’m okay, and I’m fine, but my poor mice can’t leave our room and we have to be so careful not to let any of them in.”

“Oh man, yeah, I forgot you had them for a bit. I never see them anymore. How are the mice liking Earth?”

“Okay I think, though they’d prefer it if they could leave the bedroom. It’s just not big enough.” Allura said, “I think he’d confine me to the room too if he could. He found out about something called giardia? It’s a bacteria which cats can carry that is apparently damaging to pregnant human women. But I’m not human, and even so, I stay away from the litter-boxes and wash my hands often.”

Lance regarded her belly, “How is the little jelly bean doing?”

“It’s not a jelly bean Lance,” Allura said, hand self-consciously going to her tiny baby bump, “It’s a hybrid human-Altean fetus, and it’s doing very well. In fact, it’s started to show sex differentiation so I should say that she’s doing very well.”

“You’re having a girl!” Lance squealed. “Oh my god, I’m so happy! You know most people reveal that with more flare.”

“Gender does not mean as much for Alteans as it seems to for Earthlings, especially of our children.”

“Lance? Allura?” Matt approached their table in the cafe. “Hey, fancy meeting you two here!”

“It’s the only coffee shop in town,” Allura said.

“What are you two up to?” Lance asked.

Pidge came into the conversation then, “We’re taking a break from the fur-coated hell that is Hunk’s lab.”

“Oh hey, we were just talking about our cat-issues at home too…” Lance said, “Also, Allura is having a girl!”

“Congratulations,” Matt said, “Mind if we join you?”

“Congrats,” Pidge nodded as well and pulled up two chairs without even waiting for the invitation to join. “I take it Shiro is concerned about you getting near the cats?”

“Yes,” Allura said, “But as I keep telling him, Alteans have far superior immune systems to humans, and the pregnancy is going very well. We are able to easily hybridize because our shape-shifting abilities allow us to adapt our bodies according to the needs of the fetus. It’s exhausting, but everything is going very well.”

“Can you guys please stop calling her a fetus?” Lance said, “It sounds so technical. Can’t you call her something cute, like bean or _bambina_ or peanut?”

“What about parasite?” Pidge asked, “Because she’s sucking out all your energy.”

“Ooh, yes, I like that.” Allura smiled and rubbed her belly, “My little parasite.”

Lance gave a long suffering eye-roll to which Matt merely shrugged, “It’s not inaccurate.”

“What’s that scratch on your face from?” Pidge asked Lance, “Cat?”

“This?” he said, “Bat actually, but Watson brought it in. And then Pringles escaped, and we spent hours looking for her yesterday. In the snow.”

“Brutal.”

“It gets worse. While we were gone we missed the regular feeding time so Radish rage-scratched up the couch again, and Kraig peed in my favourite sneakers, since he got locked in the mud-room.”

“And I thought we had it bad just dying of allergies in the lab.”

“We need to do something about these cats,” Lance said.

“Hunk, Shiro, and Keith need an intervention,” Pidge agreed.

“A Kittentervention!” Matt exclaimed.

“We’ll figure this out, one way or another,” Allura said.


	2. Scratching Post Struggles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A vacuum misfires, a dog joins the McKogane family, and a night-sky is built.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late, I've been busy with zine stuff. More soon.

Kittentervention: Or, How Cats Conquered the Known Universe

2: Scratching Post Struggles

For the nursery Shiro and Allura had selected a lovely shade of pastel green. Shiro told Allura that green was traditionally a gender neutral colour on Earth, and Allura had frowned and said it was generally not one considered appropriate for babies and children on Altea, since it was commonly associated with aggression, but in the lightest of shades it was acceptable (pink was obviously no good). Across the ceiling Shiro had stuck tiny glow-in-the-dark stars (and other celestial objects) in a perfect starmap of the sky from Earth, with the lamp in the centre of the ceiling representing the sun.

He climbed off the ladder, flicked off the light, and sat in the rocking chair to consider his work. A shadow filled the light flooding in from the door, and soon Allura was standing in front of him, admiring the sticker ‘sky’ above. “It’s lovely.”

“Thank you.” Allura admired Shiro’s handiwork and Shiro admired Allura in the half-light from the hallway, her face full and glowing. She wore a loose nightgown in a creamy pink, with an empire waistline drawn just below her breasts, her belly stretching the pleated fabric at her waist. Pregnancy suited her, she wore it like a queen, he wouldn’t expect anything less, but there was a tender maternal air about her, a strength combined with soft hopefulness that was revealed to him only in these intimate moments.

“I can’t even remember the night-sky from Altea… I’m sure I could find it in the records, but I doubt anyone would be interested.”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing it,” Shiro said.

“Do you have… do you know the…” she fumbled with her words briefly, “Lance mentioned that Earthlings have constellations too? Groupings of stars that resemble beings from your religion?”

“We do,” Shiro chuckled, “Well, religion on Earth has changed, but yes, our constellations are made up of figures from mythology, from… from the old religions. They vary across the world, but I somewhat know the main ones, the ‘western’ ones. I’ve made some on this map.”

“Show me,” Allura said.

“Okay,” Shiro shut the door and gave Allura the chair. He sat nearby on the footstool so that they were nearly at the same height.

“Right there,” he pointed, “In the middle of the sky, is the North Star, Polaris, it’s actually a couple of stars in orbit. From Earth it’s the biggest and brightest in the northern hemisphere of the planet, and does not change much, everything else moves around it so it’s good for navigation. Ancient mariners used it to guide their ships.”

“Ancient Earthlings developed marine technology?”

Shiro chuckled, “We had boats long before space technology, or even mass transport on land, long before electricity. Earth’s not called the blue planet for nothing.”

“Oh that’s right. Your planet is mostly ocean.”

“70 percent water,” Shiro nodded, “The North Star was the set point that ancient travellers could rely on, no matter the time of year, to sail home. It’s also the end of the tail of Ursa Minor.”

“I see,” Allura said. “Ursa means bear?”

“It does. Usually we call it the Little Dipper. It looks like a sort of ladle that they used use in olden times to draw up drinking water.” Shiro outlined it for her with his finger, “But Ursa Minor also means little bear. In the old stories bears - who were kind of like your klanmural - had tails, and the North Star was the end of Ursa Minor’s tail.”

“Is there another Ursa?”

“Yep. Ursa Major is down here, and the outside edge of the dipper cup points towards Polaris.” He set his head right next to hers and outlined it with his finger.

“Oh, I see it!”

Shiro saw her eyes light up, her finger tracing lines across the artificial skyscape he had made. At this second he knew she was his soulmate. He had never felt so complete, he snuggled up next to her, laying his head across his lap so he could stare up at the ‘stars’. Just then a scratching at the door disrupted them.

“Sounds like it’s time for evening treats,” Allura teased.

Shiro groaned into Allura’s lap. He had begun giving the nighttime meds to his cats wrapped up in bits of wet-food, but he felt bad for the cats who didn’t get wet-food, so they all got it too; all of his cats had their dinner already, they also demanded dessert.

“Yeah, yeah,” he got up with a groan. His knees weren’t responding quite like they used to as he lifted himself up. He was barely thirty-eight and already his body was breaking down; it was the fault of hard living, he supposed.

Shiro went into the kitchen and opened cans of tuna to awaiting mews and eager paws, emptying powder-filled pills onto the top and mixing it with his index finger, before laying it in front of each individual cat and saying, “Here you go,” or “this is yours,” or “enjoy fat-ass,” while Allura looked on. One large orange cat glared at him as he set the bowl in front of her, “I’m sorry it’s shredded today Pumpkin, I know you prefer pate, but you are all splitting this can and I’m not opening another just for you after you already had dinner.” 

Shiro was gentle with his cats, giving them each what they needed. He had a mixture of cats, not the wild things that Keith took, nor the medical messes that Hunk accepted into his home, but the oddballs, the cats that were missing a limb, or did not like children, or elderly women for some reason (he figured bad experiences), but otherwise functioned well in a group-setting.

“I know you’re nervous,” Allura whispered into Shiro’s ear as he was crouched down, setting a dish out.

“What?” he drew up to full height.

“About the baby. You’re nervous.”

“I’m not.”

“You shouldn’t be,” she said, “I’ve seen the way you are with these cats. You’re perfect.”

“Really?” he asked, nervously, “You don’t think I’ll mess them up someway? That they’ll notice that I’m… that I’m not...?”

Allura took him into her arms, “But darling, you are whole.” She grimaced at the eight decrepit cats fighting over bowls of tuna supreme, “Even if your cats aren’t.”

Shiro chuckled lightly, “Yeah, I love them though. And I love you,” he kissed her, “And I don’t know you yet,” he knelt before her, pressing his lips to Allura’s belly, “But I love you too, baby girl.”

***

“The workshop is certifiably cat-free,” Hunk announced, letting Matt and Pidge inside in house.

“Well, let’s get down there!” Matt exclaimed.

There were no cats in the workshop, however some fur had been left behind, and Hunk’s orange sweater, draped across the workbench, was covered in it, and there was more to be found.

“Oh my gawd,” Matt wheezed, coming up for air from within the duct of the new ‘stargate’ (working name), “I know there are no cats in here now, but this thing is filled with hair! It’s like a broken vacuum cleaner.”

“Oh yeah,” Hunk said, “It had the most suction so I had that hooked up to the vacuum cleaner while I was cleaning up the house. Here, let me unclog it.” Hunk pressed the button, planning to briefly unclog the thing. Instead, however, it stuck for a little too long and a gigantic cloud of dust, cat hair, and workshop debris spouted into the air. Even Hunk was coughing in the storm of it, but with the volume of cat hair…

“Heehtchu!”

“Aacktchu!” Pidge squeaked.

“He-heh-HEHTCHOOU!” Matt sneezed massively.

Their respective fits went on for several minutes and Hunk dashed off to grab a couple of dust masks and bottles of water.

Matt pulled down the dust mask momentarily to take a sip and glared at Hunk angrily, “Why would you do that and not clean out the bag?”

Hunk shrugged, “I forgot, I’m sorry.”

Pidge’s eyes were red-rimmed and watering so much she looked like she was crying behind the mask. She was still sneezing and a wet spot was forming from the inside of the mask. She raised her middle finger at him.

“I messed up, I’m sorry! Let’s go outside for a little while, okay?”

Hunk lived in the same little mountain town as the rest of them, but his workshop was closer to the centre of town, a converted garage across the street from the better restaurants. They went to the sandwich shop across the street, since it was too cold to sit outside in December. They ordered coffees and sandwiches while Matt took breathy pulls off his inhaler, meanwhile Hunk went outside and rang someone up on his phone.

“‘Ello my boy,” Coran’s face greeted him on the screen, “How is life treating you these days.”

“Coran, I messed up, and now Pidge and Matt are mad at me.”

“They’ll get over it lad,” he reassured, “What did you do?”

Hunk explained the cats to him, and how he vacuumed, and how he felt very bad about keeping the cats out of his lab. Coran humed and hawed the entire time.

“Hunk,” he said, “Could you tell me more about allergies? This is an immune response in humans, correct?”

“Well, yes, more of an over response.”

“Humans have medicines for it?”

“Antihistamines. They suppress the response, but also the immune system, and they usually make people drowsy.”

“Do you ever use exposure therapy?” Coran asked.

“I’ve heard of it,” said Hunk, “For food allergies, and maybe eating bee pollen? I don’t know, that’s the kind of hippie stuff you’ll find at the farmer’s market - or my mum would prescribe.”

“Hmm, yes, your mum is a wise woman.” Coran said. “We have an Altean cure for this sort of thing. I need you to bring Pidge and Matt to the Castle, along with as much cat hair as you can collect.”

“Cat hair?”

“Yes, tons of it. At least a grocery bag full.”

“Uhm… I’ll try Coran. I vacuumed recently so I might have to ask Shiro for help.”

***

“What exactly do you need this for?” Shiro asked, handing the paper bag of cat hair to Hunk. It felt like a drug deal was going down.

“He needs it to concoct an allergy cure for Pidge and Matt, so they can come to my lab, and my house…” he complained, “I haven’t been able to cook for them in forever and I think I’ve finally mastered kosher alfredo.”

“That sounds delicious.” Shiro said.

“Kosher alfredo?” Hunk asked.

“Any alfredo. Allura is so sensitive to smells right now,” Shiro complained, “I can’t even fry eggs.”

Hunk shrugged, “It’s a phase, she’ll get through it.”

“I know,” Shiro smiled wistfully, “I’m so happy but... there are days.”

“You’re living with a pregnant princess.”

“And eight cats,” Shiro laughed, “Yeah. I get it… I’ll see what I can do about finding you more hair, though I’m already sweeping twice daily and vacuuming once. Sheets get washed Saturdays and Thursdays, the van cleaned on Fridays.”

“Oh my god Shiro your house is so clean I could literally eat off the floors.”

Shiro chuckled, “Probably. Not the litter boxes though… that’s been an issue with this many cats, some of them don’t like sharing.”

“Let me tell you about this engineering project I’ve been working on for just that kind of situation…”

***

“Keep walking,” Lance drags Keith by the wrist as he slows down outside of the cat patio where the braver cats up for adoption can step out into the cold to enjoy a breath of fresh air. They approach the dog shelter and immediately a barking and whining and braying racket begins. The attendant, a pleasant looking man in his forties steps out and goes to shake their hands.

“Welcome, you just be McKogane,” he says, shutting the door to muffle the cacophony inside.

‘I still can’t believe I let Lance name smash us,’ Keith thought to himself, shaking the man’s hand and saying, “Keith.”

“Lance,” Lance said, “You must be Pietr, thank you for meeting with us.”

“You’re kind of considered heroes at the shelter...”

“Yeah,” Lance shrugged, “Guess we are, the whole Voltron thing, saving the universe, you’re wel...”

“You’ve helped us immensely with the feral cat rehabilitation program.”

“Oh,” Lance blinks, realizing then that Pietr is addressing Keith.

“It was nothing,” Keith said. “They just needed a family.”

Lance’s eyes gleamed with pride.

“Well, I am glad you’re ready to welcome in a new member, especially one of a different species.”

“We already have a dog,” Keith replied, “All of the cats get along well with her so a larger one shouldn’t be problematic.”

“Good,” Pietr said, “I have a few dogs that I’d like you to meet. You specified a younger dog?”

“I promised my husband a puppy.”

Pietr laughed.

“This way we can train it not to chase cats.” Lance defended.

“Let’s go see your candidates,” Pietr said, opening the door to the long aisle. About half of the kennels contained a dog, with spaces between when it was possible.

The first was a beautiful husky cross. She stood at alertness, and cautiously sniffed Lance’s fingers when he stuck them through. She wasn’t afraid, but she was standoffish. Her build was slim and her face youthful, white teeth gleaming, indicating that she was a young dog, and probably extremely clever if her piercing blue eyes were anything to go on.

“This one is beautiful,” Lance said.

“Don’t huskies love chasing cats?” Keith asked.

“Most do,” Pietr agreed, “Although it’d be possible to train her out of it. Probably. This dog is super clever… she’s escaped her kennel twice.”

Keith wasn’t sure he wanted to butt heads with a dog that clever, but he would keep her in mind. “Who’s next?”

An elderly shih tzu was in the next kennel but they walked right by. “He’s no good with cats.” Pietr explained, “Same with her.” He gestured to the next where an eager looking cattle dog cross of some kind grinned at them.

“This one is quite a sweetheart, although looks rather fierce.” Keith stared at the gigantic mastiff or pitbull or whatever he was who eagerly ran up to side of the kennel barking happily and then tried to lick them between the bars. He was an eager, obscenely friendly, and perhaps not very wise, mass of muscle. Pietr went ahead and have him a scratch. This dog looked like the very image Keith pictured when he closed his eyes and imagined what a cat-killing dog would look like. He knew it was breed judgement, but ‘dear god his mouth is huge.’

Lance was letting the dog lick his face and laughing when Keith turned to Pietr, “What else do you have?”

“Just one. He already has a name, usually we don’t tell people their names because then they might be reluctant to change it if they don’t like it. But this dog’s name suits him. I will say he does chase cats sometimes, but only it seems if another dog instigates it, from what his previous owner said.”

Keith frowned, “Where is he?”

“Here,” Pietr led them to a kennel towards the end where a beagle-terrier-poodle cross of some kind stands up to wag his tail and approach them. “Meet Sherlock.”

Sherlock was not a large dog, perhaps no more than 35lbs, although whether or not he was full grown wasn’t clear. He behaved like a young dog, all wild paws and joy.

“Sherlock?” Lance grinned, “I like him.”

Keith thought on the other two and then nodded, “I think our Watson will love him.”

**Author's Note:**

> To be continued...


End file.
